Nicked unceremoniously from Leodis.net the two photos above sort of extend the theme started in last nights blog.
Both photos show the hub of Leeds City Centre - City Square, the aerial view taken in, or shortly after 1937, and the other taken in 1955. In the aerial view the dominant feature is the brand new (in 1937) Queens Hotel which was the biggest and best in Leeds for many decades - if you wanted a real swanky function you simply had it at the Queens Hotel, there was no other choice, and as can be seen in the aerial view its location right next to Central Station made it the first and only choice for many travellers.
Built of concrete, redbrick and gleaming white portland stone it gleams like a new pin in that photograph amongst the black ness of all the other surrounding buildings - to the right and top of the photo are the warehouses and heavy industry of Wellington Street and Whitehall Road with a taste of what was to come for the Queens in the smoke belching from Whitehall Rd power station at the top right.
The other photo shows the frontage of the Queens Hotel in 1955 after less than twenty years of standing in the pollution that was industrial Britain - that frontage is supposed to be a very expensive white portland stone feature - but obviously its not anymore. happily the strict pollution controls introduced in the city in the late 1960's led to property owners taking advantage of grants to power wash their buildings and the Queens Hotel is now restored to its former glory, even if it is now just another bog standard hotel in the midst of many more in the city centre, not longer is it the automatic choice of swanky "do's".
And my grandma ?
When she was young, and shortly after the hotel was opened, she applied for and was given, a job as chambermaid at the exclusive, snooty establishment - it was a very prestigious job to win, even more so as she'd never worked outside of her house before in her life.
She was instructed to report to the house managers office and on the appointed day at the appointed time she alighted from her bus and made her way to the subterranean staff entrance at the less than ostentatious rear aspect of the hotel.
She found the staff entrance and was directed to the house managers office.
She couldn't find it.
She swore that she walked for at least a mile in the underground maze of service corridors, upstairs, downstairs, gaping in wonder at the opulence of the Palm Court room and other public areas and ducking beneath pipes and ducts in windowless cellars and narrow passageways, she even found herself in the huge hotel kitchen at one point where she was shoo'ed out by an angry chef.
Eventually, footsore and fed up, she found herself at the front entrance where a livered doorman opened the door for her and scowled at her obvious working class winter coat and wollen hat, she wasn't the sort of person who should be using the front entrance of The Queens.
She walked out of the front door and carried on walking to her bus stop, caught the bus and went home - "bloody sod the job" thought she, "I'll stick to the housework at home".
And apart from the job in the munitions factory during the war thats where she stayed for the rest of her life.
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